Realigning the Stars
by xXxLasting-MemoriesxXx
Summary: There was nothing more he wanted than to forget Fred and his death- delete him from every memory- he couldn't handle the emotions that came with remembering. However, he couldn't stand forgetting. He didn't hate anything as much as the word 'okay,' though, for nothing was. How could it be when the world was still in the process to realign the stars knocked out of place by war?


Chapter 1:

His sweat was almost as cold as the floor beneath his feet while he tiptoed down the staircase to the kitchen. Luckily, through years of experience, he learned how to navigate his way without stepping on a single, creaky floorboard; however, he still held his breath as he passed the closed doors, this time terrified of what he might hear on the other side. It had been about a week ago that he had heard the uncontrollable sobs from his parents' bedroom. Perhaps, it would've been different if it had been the voice of his mother, but hearing the hopeless, helpless, heighten sobs of his father did something to him. Then, having to pretend he stumbled upon nothing the following morning as his father carried on as though he was okay for the sanity of the household drove him crazy.

It was a peculiar thought to him, but he truly had a word he despised. Within the seven years, he had heard it repeated various times to finally fathom the hallow meaning of the cunning word okay. It was an excuse to stop feeling-to be numb-to freeze time. But no one could do those things? It was ridiculous. The next moon phase would arrive and at the end everything would still be the same: they were alive and a demon of having life was emotions. But at the same time, it was one of the greatest perks of being. And he was never any good with them.

Inhaling sharply, he stepped off the last step to hear hushed muttering from the couch. Squinting over through the dim light, he could see the top of a head, covered in red hair, and frowned. The clue only cut out two people, one of which he saw fast asleep before leaving his room. Hesitantly advancing into open space, he spotted a stack of books near the armrest. He exhaled.

"Percy?"

The muttering silenced leaving only the buzzing of his thoughts- memories- creating noise in his jumbled head. Nothing made sense. His older brother, who ditched his family nearly two years ago, had to be the one he ran in to and he had to speak up. He could've sneaked by without leaving a trace, for Percy was obviously more intrigued by whatever he was mumbling anyway. Something inside him made him and he was almost positive it was for the better. Maybe this was the gut feeling Harry had always talked about?

"What do you want Ron?"

His voice belonged to him, yet sounded foreign in Ron' ears. There was no hint of authority, which Ron had became accustomed to, but instead a vacancy that Ron knew all too well.

"You were muttering like a madman."

Immediately, he regretted attempting to lighten the mood for it only brought the stillness back. Waiting for a response, the hushed muttering from before rippled through the room violating every corner and pounding his eardrums. There was no doubt in his mind: his glass of water could wait.

Ron steadied the shaking of his body and sat on the couch beside his older brother letting his eyes dart from the shadows in front of them to his brother's features. Every glance his eyes collected new details. Percy's hair was a mess with random strains sticking up and his blue eyes were cold⎼⎼not the kind they were in the past, but a distant, petrifying kind. Dark circles surrounded them and his face seemed paler than normally. A book lay open on his thighs, paperwork was stacked on one side, and a quill was in his hand.

It was obvious that Ron was disturbing the situation and he'd normally jump at the chance to run. However, something inside held him to the couch forcing dried up words from his swollen throat.

"It's bad to read in little light. You'll be blind by forty."

From the corner of his eye, Ron saw the quill halt for a split second, before starting up again on a new page.

"It'd be torture to you-not being able to read and do that paperwork stuff. You wouldn't know what to do with yourself."

From the abrupt page turn, Ron sensed he was going to soon receive a response from Percy. Deciding whether it would be a good or bad one was the problem.

"I wonder if Hermione reads in the dark, too. I doubt it, but there is a chance. She's really into all the rules, so probably not- actually I'm surprised you aren't following the rules about reading-"

"There are no rules about when to read."

Ron felt his stomach leap at the sounds of his brother's voice, and did his best to disguise the feeling. Being on the run with Harry and Hermione had helped him learn to deceive better to the point where he sometimes shocked himself.

"Are you sure? I'm sure there's some sort of suggestion about it."

There was an exaggerated groan and a quill being placed into a quill container, along with a shift in Percy's position. Ron remained frozen.

"Ron, what do you want?"

"Couldn't sleep," replied Ron, nonchalantly, as though the last three years had never happened.

"Of course."

There was a dark snarl in Percy's voice, which brought comfort upon Ron. It let him know his older brother still possessed a little of the man he knew. He hated change.

Turning to meet his brother's gaze, Ron nodded at the book, "Work?"

"Yeah, I have a lot to catch up on." Percy paused. "And I guess I can't sleep either. I would be in my room, but I can overhear George and-"

For a moment, Ron had thought they'd actually have a complete conversation, but as quickly as Percy started his voice faded and oddly Ron knew why.

"You've been speaking in your sleep too," Ron caught his brother's gaze, before gently stating, "Everyone's been."

When there was no response, he continued, "This isn't the first time I needed water… and our house's walls aren't exactly sound proof…"

Percy let out an awkward chuckled, slightly mixed with joy and pain.

"Don't talk to me about the lack of sound proofing our walls have."

It was Ron's turn to be empty of a reply. His face of confusion only deepened when a light twinkled in Percy's eyes and he relaxed into the couch.

"You can't tell anyone this, okay?"

Ron nodded, unsure of what to expect.

"During the summer of my third year, I was following Bill and Charlie as we snuck down to get midnight snacks. And, let's just say, Mum and Dad forgot to cast a Silencing Charm?"

"That's bloody disgusting! Why'd you tell me that? I could've gone my whole life without knowing that or having that-that-"

"Image?"

"YES!"

"Me too," nodded Percy, who seemed slightly too amused for Ron's preference. Perhaps, his older brother was more like the rest than he had thought? First, he had never thought his brother was capable of breaking the rules to get a midnight snack and certain not able to tell him this story.

"BLOODY HELL!"

"Shut up, will you? Before you wake the entire house," chided Percy, calming Ron to his original state.

There was a sedate peace to seeing a slight normal creeping back into the household, which seemed to be dripping in ignored agony. It was why Ron didn't reply with louder, but instead released a light laugh, slowly growing stronger as Percy chimed in.

Ron wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, but he wouldn't change the moments for the world. Resting into the couch, Ron smiled distantly, "I missed having you boss me around. Fred," his face twisted in pain, "and George did too."

Percy stiffened, then nodded, "I missed being around. I've missed out on so much that I'll never be a part of."

"We all have things we regret, Perce."

"Look at you," Percy smiled softly, "if I wasn't staring right at you, I'd never guess you are my thick-headed, little brother."

Ron shrugged, "Yeah, well according to Ginny I'm still a hopeless git."

"I never said you weren't a git, just not as thick-headed as I recalled." Percy laughed softly, before noticing the offended look on his brother's face and nudged him, "Hey, relax. According to Ginny, we're all stupid gits and I'm probably the King of Gits."

"No, you're the family prat, not git. It's completely different."

Ron and Percy caught glances and succumbed to silence once more. This time, a breeze seemed to erupt from the vents cascading shivers down Ron's spine. He hated the cold almost as the awful word okay. Nothing good ever came from either.

They might have sat for two hours for all Ron knew, all he knew was that he could spot the first, faint lights of dawn breaking shining into the room.

"Hey, Ron…"

"Yeah?"

"I was a prat, wasn't I?"

Ron hesitated, and then stiffly nodded, "Yeah."

Both men focused on the window, unsure where the conversation was about to take off too. A part of Ron urged him to call it a night and head to bed, so he'd be rested for breakfast, which would probably happen in less than two hours. He buried that part of him, though.

"You know, I'm sorry."

He felt Percy staring at him, but he kept an emotionless face and studied the window. He tried to fight back the anger and hurt that was thrust upon his family when Percy abandoned them and concentrated on now. But the feelings were still present. There was no way of denying it.

"I-If I could go back, I'd change almost everything I did, I swear. I wish-"

"It's the past, Perce," Ron looked at him, "and I don't know about you, but I want to focus on the future. The only part I want to take from it is that you're back now. That's all."

An uneasy tension rose between them as Percy shut his book and collected his belongings in his hands. Nodding his head, he mumbled, "Thanks."

Ron raised his eyebrows, "For what?"

Percy shrugged and began making his way up the stairs. As his brother faded into darkness, Ron swore he heard a faint, "For not leaving me alone," and fathomed that he, too, could have correct gut feelings.

Gazing out the window one last time, Ron stood up, before following the same path Percy had taken. Suddenly, his mind was still enough for sleep.

(Page Break)

A loud thud shook Ron from his dreamless sleep. His body ached and his eyelids felt twice as heavy as normally. However, his mind was at peace. There were no memories of people who were deceased haunting it or reminders of the war; it functioned as it did before any of it started. He felt himself again. It was odd how never realized how much he missed it, until it was back. However, things couldn't remain sedate forever; it was the aftermath of a war, after all.

"Honestly, Harry, it was a suitable question."

Immediately, Ron connected the exhausted, nagging voice to a face: Hermione. Just the thought of her made his heart explode with warmth, which then spread across his body. He wiggled his toes, still trying to fall back to sleep, as he listened to the conversation, which seemed to be increasing in volume as it went.

"It's none of their business, now, is it Hermione?"

It didn't take an expert to know that his best mate, Harry, was under stress. However, he was sure only Hermione and he knew the full force of it. Ginny could understand too, maybe, but Ron was certain this was something only best mates comprehended. However, the bad thing was that Hermione was approaching the situation the incorrect way, though he'd never tell her that. Every day, they pestered him with questions trying to force the problem from his lips, when in reality, it only made him shut down more- always had- and for some reason, Ron was finally discovering this.

"Weird."

The word escaped his mouth before it registered in his brain and he regretted it. Instantly, he felt two pairs of eyes staring at him, and he had no choice but to meet them. Forcing open his own, he let out a yawn as he nodded at Harry, then Hermione, pulling the covers higher on his chest as he did so.

"Ronald, tell Harry that people have a right to be worried about him," instructed Hermione, her brown eyes blazing with determination.

Ron flopped on to his back and groaned, "Can't I do it later? It's like-like," another yawn surfaced, "six or something."

"It's nearly noon," stated Hermione, with a small smile on her face.

"Percy told your mum to let you sleep- said you had a late night," commented Harry, as he sat upon his own bed.

Ron shrugged, "Guess I did."

"What time did you sleep? I know I woke up at three-thirty and you weren't in here. Figured you went to get 'water' again." Harry raised his eyebrows when he spoke water, knowing Ron had never needed refreshments in the middle of the night until this summer. Now, it seemed he got one every night.

"Yeah," breathed Ron, slowly, hoping Hermione wouldn't read too far into it, but knew she would.

"Water? Ron, are you okay? Is something bothering you?"

Ron caught a smug look on Harry's face. The bloke spoke of Percy only to get Hermione off his own trail. Sending a glare in his direction, Ron nodded, "Yes, I'm okay. Nothing's bothering me."

He cringed, but tried to cover it up. How easy it was to lie with that dreaded word. It was almost disgusting.

There was doubt in Hermione's face, but she soon nodded in return. However, he could still see the wheels in her mind churning and he was aware this conversation would be brought up again. Whether it'd be in an hour, day, or year was the question.

"Alright. Good." She glanced at both boys, before saying, "If anything comes up, you can talk to me, but I should go now. I promised your mum, Ron, that I'd help her, Ginny, and Fleur," a twisted look crossed her face shortly, "with preparing for dinner. I know it's early, but she's making all of George's favorites… trying to get him out of his room for the entire meal."

Ron could've hurt her for forcing the memories back on him like a tidal wave. Of course his mum was working on it; she had been doing this dinner once a week in attempt to make things better. But things would never be better. Half of George was dead and always would b- a part of Ron and everyone else was too. The muttering at night would never stop, only grow softer with time.

He held in his anger, feeling his face reddening, as Hermione left the room and he pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes.

"You okay, mate?"

"The bloody, stupid word," cursed Ron, under his breath a little too loudly for his preference. However, he was at the point where he didn't care anymore. Every time he was starting to feel better, he was forced back into this dark, deep hole without a latter.

"What?"

"Nothing, Harry." He growled, pleading his brain to let him fall back into a temporary coma.

"Ron, something's obviously the matter."

This was it. He couldn't take it anymore. The emotions were boiling over like lava. Jumping up from his bed, he shot curses with his eyes targeting Harry, who seemed slightly confused by the dramatic demeanor of him.

"I didn't drag on your conversation with Hermione, so don't drag this one on. Let it be," threatened Ron, his hands clinched into fists.

"That was different," shouted Harry, rising from his bed as well.

"How? How the bloody hell was it different? Please tell me." Ron saw a fire lit within Harry, knowing he was pushing it too far. He couldn't help it though. This house was pretend. Everyone acted perfectly fine when nothing was. Every corner was crumbled.

"Because-Because-"

"Because you were the chosen one? The savior of the Wizarding World? Honestly, Harry, you aren't the only one impacted by the war! You wallow in self-pity and I can't stand it anymore! And you're just- you're just like them!" Ron was in a danger zone. The red signs were flashing everywhere he looked.

"Like who? Who, Ron?"

There was a dark tint to Harry's emerald eyes, but it made no difference to Ron now.

"This house- the world! Pretending everything is sunshine and daisies when nothing is! Look around you. Look!"

"And you don't? This is ridiculous!"

"What's going on?"

Both men froze in place, as Ginny appeared in the doorway. Her eyes filled with curiosity and annoyance, with her hands on her hips. Her semblance looked a little too like their mother for Ron's comfort.

"Honestly, mum sent me up here. She doesn't need this right now," she continued, stepping closer to Harry than Ron.

Something scratched at Ron's insides, as he saw the favoritism in her face. It was like everyone else in the household. They had to be sure everything for Harry was perfect but could care less about him- their actual family member. He was a fool to think otherwise, but was one to think this way too. Deep down, he knew it wasn't true, but his anger was thinking for him.

"He's being a git," spoke Harry and Ron in unison through gritted teeth.

Ginny rolled her eyes, "Well, whatever it is, can you knock it off? You're going to have Mum in tears again."

Ron's face fell, as he bowed his head in guilt. "Blimey, Ginny, I didn't think-"

"It's fine. You never did before, so none of us expect you to start now. Just don't argue," pleaded Ginny, as she exited the room once more.

Sighing, Ron collapsed on to his bed and placed his heavy head in his hands. He tried to cling on to the little bit of peace he had left from his sleep, but knew it was useless. Instead, he focused on the floor and how small his normally large looking feet seemed. It was another reminder of how small he actually was- how all of them were.

Feeling the weight of the bed swift, he glanced over to see Harry's feet on the floor beside his. A part of him was thankful for the friend, while the other part wanted nothing more than him to leave him be. Shaking his head, he bit the inside of his cheek and kept a solid semblance.

"I should've listened," began Harry, "I should've left the issue alone."

"You were just trying to help," shrugged Ron. "I shouldn't have flipped."

"You had a right to."

The two sat in murdering silence, before Ron couldn't handle it anymore. Forcing himself to his feet, he looked over at Harry and stated, "I don't know about you, but I sort of want to check on Hermione. The last thing I'd want is for Mum to drive her crazy. I prefer my girlfriend to be sane."

The word sounded foreign still but right. The way it flicked off his tongue sent sparks through him. After everything- every struggle- they were finally together and he was determined to never let her out of his grasp again; she was the one good thing that came from the battle.

"You don't want another…"

Harry's voice trailed off at the memory of Ron's last girlfriend and scrunched his face up in pain, as well did Ron, who stiffened at the thought of her and everyone else once more. It was a couple more seconds, before Harry moved past the agony of memories. Ron wondered if he hated them as much as he did.

"You going to steal the food?" asked Harry, following Ron.

"Probably."

"Thought so."

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**Thank you for reading. I thought I'd take the aftermath from Ron's perspective, since I haven't seen it before. I also feel like a lot of people leave out how bad the war would effect Percy, so I included some of that. The next chapter will hopefully be up soon as the Weasley's try to get back on to their feet. I had some emotional conversations between George and Ron planned that include what I put as the summary. **

**Anyway, reviews are my ****inspiration and the cherry on top of everything. Follows and Favs are brilliant too. I just really want feedback for this because I was afraid of whether I'm doing the characters justice or not. I really want to stay in character, or as best as I can. So, please, let me know?**

**Hoped you enjoyed, **

**-Kaitlyn**


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